We can all agree that leftovers are the best part of Thankagiving! For the next couple of days, maybe even weeks, you don’t have to worry about where your food is coming from. Our writers took leftovers to a different level. Here are our leftovers (songs we keep coming back to).
“Whistle for the Choir” by The Fratellis
In 2022, I received my annual Apple Music Replay, which revealed I listened to “Whistle for the Choir” by The Fratellis 155 times. The number shocked me, though not for the reason you would think.
I was not at all surprised to learn how many times I replayed the song. In fact, I had expected it to be more.
My hyperfixation with the song began after hearing it in one of my favorite TV shows, “Community.” During one episode, a beautiful vocal harmony caught my attention. I immediately paused the show to discover more about the song and the band that recorded it.
I soon became enamored with The Fratellis and their upbeat rock sound and witty, offbeat lyrics. Their debut record, Costello Music, where “Whistle for the Choir” was first released, quickly became one of my all-time favorite albums.
As much as I love the energetic drum fills and gang vocals characteristic of their other songs, I always come back to the mellower sound of “Whistle for the Choir.” No matter how many times I hear the chord progression, the acoustic guitar riff scratches an itch in my brain. Something about the rhythmic strums and the earnest-sounding vocals feels dreamy and romantic. For months, I listened to the song on repeat, almost hypnotized by the music. I even tried to learn to whistle so I could pipe along with the vocal solo.
While I no longer listen to “Whistle for the Choir” a hundred times a year, I still gravitate towards it. Every few months, the song ends up back on my playlist. I often find myself humming the melody, transported once again into the song’s story of wistful longing.
– Annie Sarlin, Staff Writer
“Never Can Say Goodbye” by The Jackson 5
There are songs that become companions, and “Never Can Say Goodbye” by The Jackson 5 is one that keeps pulling me back into its orbit. Though it has been reimagined by Gloria Gaynor, the Communards, covered on Glee, and countless others who recognized its magic, the original remains untouchable. Michael Jackson was merely twelve when he recorded this, yet his voice carries the weight of something ancient and knowing. From the very first notes, he captures you completely, drawing the listeners into a world that is both sonically lush and remarkably layered. What makes it extraordinary is the song’s duality: lyrically, it drifts toward melancholy, while sonically it is wrapped in a melody that lifts and moves. It’s a song for every mood, every moment; whether you need something to accompany deep reflection or simply want to sway without thinking… one truly never can say goodbye to this classic.
- Kelly Cheng, Staff Writer
“Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and that fury makes for some really great music. Arguably the band’s best song, “Silver Springs” encapsulates both female rage and Stevie Nicks’ powerful vocals into five minutes of pure catharsis. It’s one of the few songs with a “no skip” rule in my car, and always requires a full performance. Starting off with a simple, quiet, and almost bleeding guitar strum and delicate, glass-like chimes, the song builds to become a screaming, raw confessional of a lost, but never gone, love. Infamously written by Nicks about her breakup with guitarist Lindsay Buckingham, the song serves as a last rite. Passionate and heartfelt, but still a final goodbye of sorts. Even though Nicks is moving on, she asserts that her lover won’t be granted that luxury, and that her love for him will haunt him for eternity. With this song, Fleetwood Mac wrote the book on messy band breakups and extreme vulnerability in songwriting. I mean, imagine screaming that chorus while looking your ex in the eye? It’s this passion that gives the song it’s eternal life, and the spectacle that makes the band’s 1997 performance of it equally everlasting to music and pop culture historians alike. Few things are true in this world, but we can always count on death, taxes, and never getting away from the sound of a woman that loves you.
– Avieana Rivera, Music Coordinator
“Stick Season” by Noah Kahan
When Noah Kahan wrote “Stick Season,” he basically looked at New England and said, “what if I make seasonal depression catchy?” and then went on to create the best folk-pop banger of the decade. From the first strum, you can practically smell the maple syrup and unresolved feelings. Right from the opening lines, Kahan turns small-town heartbreak into something universal. Anyone who’s ever tried to move on knows that memory has a way of editing the footage, giving you highlight reels of a relationship you know was half disaster. The title itself, “stick season,” perfectly captures that completely unglamorous time of year when the leaves are gone, the skies are gray, and everything feels a little too bare. WHat makes this track so good is its ability to balance confession and clarity so gracefully: vulnerability without being dramatic, its sharp without being bitter, and catchy without sacrificing depth. And somehow, in the middle of all the self-deprecation and crunchy leaves, Kahan manages to make heartbreak feel — dare I say — fun.
–Lindsay Gould, Staff Writer
“Thirteen” by Elliott Smith
Elliott Smith has the perfect voice for any kind of cover. Whether it be a faster tempo song, or a slow, melodic lullaby like “Thirteen.” Originally a Big Star song, Smith’s cover adds a even deeper sense of fragility that is already present on the song. His trademark melancholy voice makes the song his own.
When I first heard this song, I was already a massive Big Star fan and Elliott Smith fan. This was the perfect crossover of two of my favorite artists. Since then, I have never gotten tired of it. It always seems to pick me up when I’m down or remind me of how simple life can be despite it feeling complicated at times.
– Fenton Wright, Web Services Coordinator
